


The Execution of All Things

by bratwonders, FatherIimaginedyoutaller, Sagavan



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alfred Pennyworth is Dead, Angst, Bruce Wayne Needs a Hug, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Damian Wayne Feels, Damian Wayne Needs a Hug, Damian Wayne-centric, Depression, Dick Grayson is Ric Grayson, Drug Abuse, Family, Family Feels, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Guilt, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Mental Health Issues, Mental Institutions, Overdosing, Pets, Protective Bruce Wayne, Protective Stephanie Brown, Rehabilitation, Self-Harm, Siblings, Therapy, Underage Drinking, Underage Drug Use, but thats just mentioned, lots of therapy, sort of canon compliant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:14:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24083407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bratwonders/pseuds/bratwonders, https://archiveofourown.org/users/FatherIimaginedyoutaller/pseuds/FatherIimaginedyoutaller, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sagavan/pseuds/Sagavan
Summary: Damian, crushed by the death of his loved ones and the semi-abandonment of his father and brother, begins to look for... alternative methods of coping. When it all comes crashing down, he begins to realize things may not be as bad as they seem.All it takes is some perseverance, a lot of therapy, and a little, one-eyed cat.(On indefinite hiatus)
Relationships: Alfred Pennyworth & Damian Wayne, Billy Batson & Damian Wayne, Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne, Damian Wayne & Colin Wilkes, Damian Wayne & Everyone, Jonathan Samuel Kent & Damian Wayne, Maya Ducard & Damian Wayne, Nell Little & Damian Wayne, Stephanie Brown & Bruce Wayne, Stephanie Brown & Damian Wayne
Comments: 12
Kudos: 241





	1. The Way Down

_ He tried to comprehend how it all happened. _

_ How did all come down spiraling down like this?  _

_ Had he truly lost control of his life this much? _

_ Six months ago, he was a completely different person. _

_ Six months ago he had made a decision. Something that brought up a chain reaction of disgrace that shamed him so much, it made him want to hide from the world. _

Damian Wayne broke his leg on a mission and was prescribed with analgesics and antibiotics.

His father, Bruce Wayne, hadn’t bothered to show up to send any support. Only a vague message that could be described as a self serving scold of how to properly land on a rooftop that Damian  _ should _ already know by now.

(What Bruce didn't know, however, was that  _ maybe  _ Damian had broken his leg on purpose, to have an excuse for him to show up for once.)

But Stephanie had been kind enough to come visit him daily and ask questions to try and make conversation. It was sweet, but pointless. Stephanie didn’t understand him, and she didn’t understand she wasn’t the one Damian  _ needed  _ in the moment. What Bruce had been so busy with was unknown to him, but surely it wasn’t so important he couldn’t see his own  _ injured son. _

Whatever. It’s not like Damian needed him to feel better. All he needed was rest.

Rest, and the medication.

  
  


*

Damian sighed shakily as he looked at himself in the mirror. He really  _ had  _ gotten thin. The clothes that were usually skin-tight were hanging off his body lifelessly, swallowing him up. Not to mention lately he’d been feeling dizzy, weak and nauseous. Although Colin and Nell hadn’t suspected a thing. Perhaps Damian was good at hiding it. Or perhaps they didn’t care as much as Damian had thought.

Damian had spent the last 3 years attending Gotham High. During that period he had taken three long non-consecutive breaks, or “vacations.” One when Alfred died — was  _ murdered _ — one when Dick “disappeared,” and one when he broke his leg.

During that time span he had spent a large portion of the time hearing his only two school friends, Colin Wilkes and Nell Little, talking about the Homecoming dance. It was an event he found ridiculous and that didn't have any reason to be. Yet, now… now he was grooming himself to attend the occasion tonight.l

He took a moment to consider  _ why  _ exactly he was going. Every part of him wanted to stay inside, drink some of his father’s bourbon and be left alone.

  
  
  


_ “I don't understand, Alfred.” He muttered, looking out the window as Alfred drove him to his new school. "What is the point of me attending this place?" _

_ Alfred tapped his bony fingers on the leather steering wheel, focused intently on the road. “Your father thinks I'll be good for you. And frankly, I think so too.” He sighed. “Master Damian, please try and make friends while you're there.” _

_ He frowned in contempt. “I already have Maya. and Baba has given me permission to form the new Teen Titans team, don't you know? Do I really need more friends?” _

_ “Yes.” His answer was absolute. “You can never have too many friends.” _

_ Damian huffed and curled into himself. What a joke. _

_ After a few minutes of silence, the butler continued. “You might not understand this right now, Master Damian, but one might start to feel lonely… even when they are surrounded by people.” His eyes flickered over to the boy for a moment. “And when that feeling does come, it is important to have a network of support that can help you overcome it.” _

  
  
  


Damian ran a hand over his face. He had made a promise to Alfred. Alfred wouldn’t want him spending his night alone during a dance. 

_ He would be so ashamed of you now. _

He quickly shook the thought out of his head and busied himself tucking his shirt in.

There was a sudden loud honking of a car, which Damian could only assume was Colin’s. Despite being sixteen, Damian still didn’t have his license. So Colin took it upon himself to drive them to the dance. 

He grabbed his “water” bottle — which was actually peach juice mixed with vodka — and went downstairs. Stephanie had already left for the night and his father was who-knows-where, so the house was quiet as he went to the front door.

Titus was asleep in the kitchen, his ear twitching as he heard the footsteps. Damian scratched behind his ear and smiled at him. “See you soon; Titus.”

The Great Dane tilted his head, then leaned forward and licked his face. 

Damian pressed a kiss to the top of his head, then left the manor and opened the back door of the car, sliding in easily.

Colin looked at him and smiled. “Ready, Dames?”

Damian nodded quickly, taking a sip of his drink. “Ready. Let’s go.”

Nell sat in the front seat, while Damian sat in the back. He fiddled with his cufflinks — passed down from Bruce — and adjusted his tie — passed down from…

“How's your leg doing Damian?" Nell asked, looking back at him.

“My leg?” He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

“Yeah?” She frowned. “I saw you were still taking your medicine for it. That's why you brought the water right?" She nodded to the bottle in his hands.

He looked at the object in his hands and then at his friend. “...Yeah.” He winced at his own hesitation. “I mean...yes... that's-that's why I brought this.” He tightened his grip on the bottle.

"Okay, guys," Colin interrupted, starting up the car again, "let's go to the Homecoming dance!"

Damian smiled a bit and curled up against the door, looking out the window. It was a calm night. Something he appreciated greatly. He could hear the cicadas chirping from outside the window his head was uncomfortably rested against, the stars twinkling above them.

Suddenly he started to feel something warm in his stomach and it wasn't a pleasant sensation. He felt revolted and compelled to throw up but he held it in and opened the car's window.

"You okay, Damian?" Nell asked, adjusting her bustier. She was wearing a long blue dress decorated in yellow hearts. She looked angelic, as always.

"Yeah, Dames…" Colin drawled, looking at him from the front mirror, "You don't look so good." 

Damian frowned. He knew he was right. Damian was a shade paler and his cheeks were tinted a sickly green. He didn’t look normal, even by his own standards.

"I'm… a little agitated." He responded, not giving it too much importance. "I am sure I just need some fresh air.”

Colin said something but Damian couldn't exactly make out what it was. His friends were starting to fade into blurs and lines and honestly, it scared him a little. He blinked a few times to bring him back, but the action proved futile. He turned to Nell to try to say something, but was suddenly enveloped by a pitch black void. Like a light switch, his senses shut off.

_ "Master Damian." _ A familiar voice suddenly spoke to him. It sent a pang through his heart.

_ His voice was tinted with doubt, shock. "Alfred?" He looked around them. Everything was a big white blur, with muffled sounds coming from all around them. It was giving him a slight headache. _

_ "Oh, Master Damian… what have you done?" _

The voice faded and he was left in the blur, alone. His stomach was revolving like a cement mixer as the scene replayed in his head. Perhaps he should have told Nell and Colin he wasn't feeling well. He should have made an excuse not to go. All he could think about is how  _ bad  _ of an idea this was. He should have stayed with Maya and the rest of his team at the tower. With his friends. With—

  
  
  


_ Damian sat on the toilet’s seat, hands trembling as he held a small wilhite bottle of vicodin in one hand and a flask full of vodka in the other. He popped the stache open and took two white pills with ease as if they were candy. As if this was normal. He was about to drink the vodka to wash it down (vicodin was one that never went down too easy) when someone knocked on the door. He nearly jumped out of his skin. _

_ “Damian?” Maya called from the other side of the door. “Are you in there?” _

_ “Yes, Maya.” He answered gruffly. “What do you want?” _

_ “Eesh, what has gotten into you? I was just gonna tell you that we’re going to watch some movies with the team. Want to join us?” _

_ Damian paused for a moment. He opened his mouth and immediately grimaced as he felt pain shooting from his leg and into the rest of his body. Like a snake injecting poison into his veins. _

_ “No.” he coughed. _

_ “C'mon dude…” she whined. So childish. “You’ve been in your room brooding for four months now!” She paused. Damian swallowed thickly. “If there's something wrong, you can talk to me… I miss my brother.” _

_ He closed his eyes. Perhaps that would be better than to hide in his room all night until everything passed. _

_ No. He couldn't. _

_ “I said no. Get out.” _

_ “Fine.” she muttered. Damian could hear her footsteps walking away. “You’re an asshole, you know that?” _

  
  
  


"Do you want to go to the roof?"

He blinked again and found himself at the gym. It was a strange feeling, as if he had just woken up. But he was standing, and awake, and it was just  _ jarring.  _ The smell of sweat, the cheap, fluorescent lights and the voices of petulant teenagers running around didn't help his disoriented state at all.

With a shaky hand, he took his phone out of his pocket and felt his heart stop as he realized he had blacked out for at least 20 minutes. He started to get nervous. Had the others noticed anything? Had he said anything he shouldn’t have?

Damian looked up at Colin and swallowed. “Um… what?”

Colin chuckled and put his hands in his pockets. “Nell and I are going to the roof. Wanna come up with us?”

He really didn't. He was beginning to feel really bad, not only physically, but he was terrified he might have done something irreversible to himself. Anxieties were tumbling through his mind about the night. He felt so alone and helpless in the moment that he wanted more than anything to collapse into someone's arms and cry.

But he couldn't, he just had to break through this state and push through the night. He could make it. Just a little longer.

Going upstairs was hell, every step felt like lapping one mile.

_ It’ll be over soon. Just keep pushing. _

So he did. He pushed through, making sure to stay behind Nell and Colin. He prayed that there weren't more people on the roof and that he could end this affair early. He  _ needed  _ it to end soon.

Arriving at the roof was actually a little relieving. He felt a little better as the cold air hit his face. It helped him clear his senses a little bit and he noticed his leg didn’t hurt as much as it did previously. 

Maybe things would be alright.

That would’ve been the end of it,  _ should’ve  _ been the end of it, until Damian's leg started to hurt again. It felt like he was being  _ stabbed.  _ His knees became weak, and that’s when the vertigo set in, making him sway slightly to stay upright, the world spinning on its axis and everything getting blurry and the noises being drowned out by an  _ awful  _ ringing and fuck, fuck, he really should’ve stayed home—

And, somehow, in the middle of it, he forgot to breathe.

"Damian?" Someone shouted. "Damian!"

"Whoa dude!" 

Everything was flashing lights, blurry visions and muffled voices. He wasn’t quite sure what was real, and what was fake. He could imagine that  _ his  _ voice in his ear was a figment of his imagination, but the rest, he couldn’t quite make up. Perhaps it was because his head was  _ pounding  _ as if someone had taken a screwdriver and drilled it through his skull. His body was resting on something cold and hard, but he couldn’t find it in him to move. He welcomed the feeling as if it was his own warm bed as he closed his eyes. He didn’t have the energy to attempt to understand where he was. 

_ Dammit, Dammit! Snap out of it! _

Black spots started crawling in from the corners of his eyes. He blinked sluggishly a few times to try and push them back, but it proved useless.

A few minutes of silence — a peaceful, deathly silence — passed before he felt ready to give in to the darkness. It felt warm, welcoming.

The last thing he heard were two voices. He was so lost in his daze, he couldn’t make them out. 

He was so ready to succumb to — to wherever this darkness would carry him. He felt ready.

He felt like he’s always been ready.

_ If I die now… _

_ If I die now, who will take care of Titus, Goliath, Batcow, Alfred? Alfred. _

_ Alfred… _

_ I miss him so much. _

_. _

_. _

_. _

Two minutes.

His heart had stopped for  _ two minutes.  _

Luckily, they managed to restart it. But it wasn’t an easy process, and Stephanie was present during all of it. 

Nell, in tears and panicking, had called her as soon as it happened. Luckily, she was patrolling near the school at the time and Batgirl was able to land on the rooftop and assess the situation.

She had found Damian —  _ her little brother  _ — passed out in a pool of his own vomit. The smell of alcohol almost knocked her out cold. She quickly asked for Nell to call an ambulance and started doing chest compressions on Damian.

She couldn’t help but thinking of her mother. She thought about how similar it felt to when she had found her mother passed out in the kitchen, over and over again, as a product of her addiction.

She texted Bruce on the way to the hospital. None of the nurses had objected to a Bat being in the ambulance, especially someone as known and loved by the neighborhood as Batgirl. As soon as they arrived, she disappeared, making up some excuse as to why she needed to leave. She arrived once more, this time as Stephanie Brown, a normal civilian and a worried —  _ terrified  _ older sister who only prayed that the worst hadn't happened.

*

Bruce busted through the hospital door, marching down the hall like a man on a mission. Easily making people get out of his way with his firm step and deadly glare. All of it to mask the pain he was feeling in the moment, the unadulterated  _ fear. _

Stephanie had called him in a panic, explaining they didn’t know what happened but— but Damian was  _ not okay  _ and maybe that’s all he needed to know. 

When he arrived, one of the nurses in the front pointed him to the West wing as soon as he saw who he was. He thought of the press and how he had so little time before they swamped the place. He had to be quick.

He soon located Damian's room, where there were two people standing in front of the door. Two of them were who he assumed to be Damian's friends (and how terrible of a father he was, not even able to recognize Damian’s  _ friends)  _ and the third one was... 

"What happened?" Stephanie asked them both. Her voice was laced with the same panic booming in Bruce’s heart.

Colin was quick to answer, his bottom lip trembling as if he were a small child. He must have been terrified. "He-he looked off the whole night and-- and we went to the rooftop and he threw up on me and he passed out!!" 

"Were you drinking?!" 

"No! I swear to-"

"Mr. Wayne?" Nell said, making both Colin and Stephanie turn around.

Stephanie looked at Bruce, covering her mouth with her hands. She was about to say something but Bruce ignored her and continued on his lap toward the room.

Before opening the door he steeled himself for whatever he was about to see. He knew he had to be strong for his son. He needed him now.

He entered the pitch white room, immediately startled by a beeping sound and the clear stench of alcohol. His body shook as he advanced, his nerves rising with each step. He stopped in front of the bed, quietly assessing the situation.

Damian's suit and tie were folded up on a table next to the bed. It was stained in what Bruce could only assume was Damian’s own vomit. On the bed, lithe and weak, was his son. Lying down in a thin hospital gown with an oxygen mask attached to his face. His vision was unfocused, but he managed to lock eyes with his father. The emotion on his face was unreadable, and it scared Bruce so damn much.

“Baba?” He rasped, taking in a large breath from the effort it took. Bruce’s eyes widened and he clutched onto his son’s hand tightly. 

It reminded him of a similar situation six months ago. Damian had been in the hospital with a broken leg, and unfortunately Bruce hadn’t arrived at the hospital to see him until a few hours later. He had already fallen asleep, so Bruce had just kissed his forehead and talked to the doctor about the procedure moving forward. He  _ hated  _ when his children were in the hospital, but ever since Alfred’s passing, their DIY-hospital in the Batcave was closed until further notice and they had to resort to the “professionals.” Words couldn’t describe how much it scared Bruce to put his son, his entire  _ world  _ into the hands of someone he didn’t even know.

“Damian…” he whispered. “What do you need?”

Damian squirmed a bit in his bed, but Bruce held him in place and shushed him softly. “It’s okay…”

"Why…"

Bruce bit his lip. “Why what?” He whispered. He assumed Damian was going to ask about why he was in the hospital or what happened, but the words that actually came out of his mouth were much,  _ much  _ worse.

"Why… why do I have to die for you to care about me?”

And they were the words Bruce would think about every waking moment, perhaps for the rest of his life.


	2. Fallout

For a moment, Damian saw a light. A light so bright that it almost blinded him, but it didn’t hurt his eyes. He was surrounded by that light. He felt strangely comfortable, as if he were in a dream. One he would choose to not wake up to if he could.

_ If only. _

He slowly opened his eyes, the white of the room swallowing him whole. The beeping sound next to him made him blink a few times, as he slowly became aware of his surroundings. It took him a fraction of a second before the entire weight of what had happened last night fell onto him like a pile of bricks. Every event, although blurry and foggy, spoke of someone who wasn't in control, someone who he didn't  _ want _ to be.

When he thought about it, he felt like he was trapped in a storm. It  _ crushed _ him. Not only mentally, but he could feel how his whole body was weighing him down, sinking into the lumpy hospital bed.

_ Well, you’ve done it.  _ A deep, dark part of his mind hissed, the words sinking it like venom.  _ You managed to make the worst possible thing out of yourself. _

_ An addict, a junkie, that’s what you are. _

_ Baba should have gotten rid of you when you killed Alfred. _

"Damian?"

His self hatred was interrupted by a soft spoken voice. He looked over the door and saw a nurse, long black hair tied up in a tight bun. The way she looked at him… with such  _ pity _ in her eyes, only made him feel even more like the low-life he knew he was.

Damian looked down at his lap, furrowing his eyebrows. He didn’t want to speak to her. He didn’t want to speak to  _ anyone.  _ And if it wasn't bad enough, his leg hurt like hell.

“You have a visitor.” She smiled, soft spoken and sweet. He loathed it.

The door of the room slowly opened and another person appeared.

  
  


*

  
  


Stephanie — who had been with him the whole night before — came into Damian’s room quietly. Carefully stepping on the tile floor. She was carrying a bag full of clothes for Damian. her facial expression was a mix of worry and underlying sadness that you would have never expected to see in a rather  _ happy-go-lucky _ Batgirl.

Damian glanced at her to acknowledge her, but that was about it. He looked down at his lap, biting down on his lip. He didn’t greet her or speak. He just stayed immobile in the hospital bed with the covers up to his waist.

“Damian?” She said softly, taking a step forward. Her voice was somewhat shaky. “It’s me, it’s Steph.”

No response came out of the boy, making her stomach twist. She tried again.

“How are you feeling?”

Damian stayed quiet and looked down at his lap. He clearly had no intention of speaking to her. It  _ killed  _ her.

She felt the tears start to form again, her hands shaking. Was he mad? Upset with her? She couldn’t stand the silence. She didn’t know  _ anything _ about Damian, and that scared her. It broke her heart. They were supposed to be brother and sister.

“Please, don’t do this.” She whispered, trying and failing to keep her voice from wavering. “Say something. You can be mad if you want to.”

Damian looked away. Steph wanted to scream. “Do you want me to bring Bruce?” She asked, somewhat desperately. “Will you talk to him?”

There was no reply, and it was starting to become painful. Maybe she deserved this. She hadn’t even known about his addiction… not until it was too late. She couldn’t even remember the last time she checked up on him.

_ My mother was the same way.  _ She told herself.  _ Whenever she had an overdose she would stay quiet for a few days…  _ But the thought brought little comfort.

As much as it pained her, she had to admit… This was her fault too.

She slowly turned around, but first she put the bag of clothes in the chair on the corner of the room. She stepped out of the hospital room, feeling even worse than when she came in. The crushing guilt ate away at her. 

When she saw Bruce, she felt a different kind of sadness… one that could only be described as  _ pity.  _ She felt so bad for the man. Despite their differences, despite every squabble and fight, they both  _ cared _ about Damian and wanted only what was best for him. She felt like it was her place to say something, but she didn't know what. She was never good at bringing comfort to him.

And it’s not like Damian had told her anything, either.

*

Bruce sat on the uncomfortable hospital chair as he waited. He had been seated for such a long amount of time that he was beginning to feel uncomfortable. He felt hungry and tired and wanted more than anything to go home. But he just  _ couldn't. _

Damian’s words replayed in his mind like a broken record.

_ "Why do I have to die for you to care about me?” _

His words felt like a stab wound in the chest that it only grew deeper as he remembered how he hadn't said anything after it, how Damian had fallen asleep immediately after, thanks to the sedatives, and how horrible he felt for all of it.

_ I'm a failure.  _ He thought. He  _ knew _ he was.  _ I haven't been taking care of him as I should...as I used to. _

_ Why did this need to happen for me to realize that? _

Something deep and uncomfortable settled in his chest. He knew he wasn’t the best father that could be, but he thought he was  _ trying.  _ He thought he’d been doing a good  _ enough  _ job of keeping his kids safe. But sitting here, in this stuffy,  _ terrifying  _ little hospital room, it just proved he had  _ no  _ idea what was really going on in his kids’ lives. That… that  _ scared  _ him. It  _ hurt. _

His thoughts were interrupted by his phone ringing. He nearly jumped in the middle of the waiting room. He realized he hadn't moved in what felt like hours, agonizingly waiting for any information.

He checked his phone quickly and answered. "Clark..."

"Hey, Bruce.” His tone was somber and careful. Clark was a very empathetic man; most likely, he was thinking about being in the same situation with his own son. It was a position no parent wanted to stomach. “I just wanted to let you know I pulled some strings with the press… and I made sure they won't bother you or your family today."

He let out a relieved sigh. Thank god… "Thank you, Clark.” He whispered. “You don't know how much weight you’re lifting off my shoulders."

"Of course, Bruce. You know I would do anything for your family. Especially for my son’s best friend." 

A few seconds of silence passed before Clark spoke up again. “How are you holding up right now?” 

“I’m… I’m fine.” Bruce answered —  _ lied.  _ He knew, and he was sure Clark knew that too. But thankfully, he knew better than to comment on it. “I’m just tired.”

“Is that all?” He said quietly, delicately. 

Bruce felt tears starting to fill his eyes at that question, the pressure in his stomach and in his chest tightening. This was too much. It was becoming way too much.

“I failed, Clark.” He felt something hard in his throat. “I failed  _ him _ .”

“You didn’t—”

“If I had just been paying more attention, if I had been  _ there _ for him—”

“Bruce.” The Kryptonian interrupted softly. “Listen to me… you’re not a failure, you didn’t mean for this to happen. These last few years have been rough — rough on  _ all _ of you — but blaming yourself won’t help Damian now. You’ve always tried to be the best father you can, and sometimes… sometimes that’s all you can do.” He paused. “And sometimes that means making tough calls.”

Bruce frowned a bit. “Clark?”

“Bruce… you  _ need  _ to get him help.”

Bruce took a moment to process the words. “What do you mean?” He sat up straight. "You mean... send him away?" Send him to rehab?

He could practically  _ hear _ Clark biting his tongue. 

"Maybe that's what he needs."

Bruce let out a big sigh. His chest felt even more high-strung right now. He wasn't even trying to stop the tears from falling down his face anymore. Clark was basically telling him that he couldn't help Damian, that the only solution was to send him  _ away,  _ to put him in the hands of someone who would do a better job of taking care of him than Bruce ever could.

And the worst part is that Bruce thought he was  _ right. _

“Bruce?”

He nearly jumped out of the chair again. “Yeah, yeah, I…”He swallowed thickly. “I should probably go. Thank you — thank you, Clark.”

“Of course, Bruce.” He said quietly. “Good luck. I send my best regards.”

He pulled the phone away from his ear and stuffed it into his pocket. He wasn’t sure if he felt better or worse after talking to Clark. 

His thoughts were interrupted by Stephanie sitting in the chair next to him. She stared at her lap, her face and eyes just looking so…  _ heartbroken. _

“He’s just… quiet.” She whispered, not making eye contact. “He won’t talk to me.”

Bruce nodded quietly. Honestly, he would have preferred if Damian had kicked and screamed and threw a tantrum. He would have preferred any sort of  _ sign of life _ . Rather than this radio silence… this terrifying despondency.

“Did you… did you find anything in the manor?" He asked hesitantly.

Stephanie had offered to go to the manor to pick up some fresh clothes for Damian, but they both knew that she would also look in his room for more drugs and alcohol the boy may have hidden in there.

She was quiet for a moment. “I found a stache full of vicodin bottles behind the mirror in his bathroom.” She answered somberly. “There were few cans of beer under his bed...”

Bruce held back another flood of tears threatening to spill. “How could I have been so blind to this...?” 

At that moment, someone showed up in front of them. She was a tall middle aged woman, dressed in a white hospital coat, with brown hair that had several little white hairs all around and grey round glasses.

“Leslie.” Bruce whispered. He hadn't seen her since Alfred's funeral.

“Doctor Thompkins?” Stephanie recognized the woman as the one who had saved her life during the Gotham gang war.

“Hello Bruce, Stephanie.” She nodded slowly. “I… wish we were meeting under better circumstances.” She gave Bruce a quick look.

Bruce nodded and looked down to the floor in shame. His godmother had always looked down on his vigilante affairs, and now she probably also looked down on his parenting skills. He couldn’t really blame her for either of those judgements now could he.

“Leslie, I-”

“Damian had an overdose as a product of alcohol and prescription drugs.” She interrupted him bluntly. The word  _ overdose _ was like receiving a shot in the chest for Bruce. 

She kept talking. “He was lucky they called the ambulance on time... otherwise he wouldn’t have made it.”

Bruce looked at Stephanie, silently grateful for her quick action. He had the urge to hold her hand, but held it down.

"Now given your particular... _ lifestyle,” _ she lowered her voice significantly, “it is almost expected that a young boy such as Damian would turn to coping mechanisms like substance abuse and self harm."

"Self harm?" Bruce asked quickly.  _ No. _

"The broken leg.” Thompkins answered, slightly more sympathetic. “Given these particular circumstances... I have reasons to believe that it wasn't an accident, as well as the x-rays to verify it." 

Bruce's entire body went... almost  _ limp. _ He felt like he was about to pass out. Damian has been hurting himself  _ on purpose.  _ He felt ready to cry.

But he quickly regained his composure to make sure neither of the women noticed him; he grit his teeth and fought to catch his breath.

"Taking all of this into account,” she continued, “I believe it would be unethical to  _ not _ recommend that Damian be sent to a rehabilitation clinic."

  
  


*

Damian stood next to the door, his left ear pushed against it, dumbfounded. This couldn't happen.  _ It just couldn’t.  _ He quickly turned around and hobbled back to his bed, ignoring the pain in his leg.

He heard a knock on the door, and quickly climbed up onto the bed. He was ready to have Bruce walk in and tell him that he’ll be dragged all the way to Arkham. 

Instead, he was surprised to see a woman who he didn’t recognize walk into the room instead. Although she seemed familiar, Damian couldn’t remember if they’d met before. Perhaps he had seen her while semi-unconscious. 

"Hello, Damian. I suppose you have been hearing our conversation." She commented, almost nonchalantly.

"You can't send me there." He immediately pleaded with the woman. He didn’t care if he hurt his pride. He  _ couldn’t _ go.

"I just made a suggestion, it is your father who needs to make the decision."

He noticed Bruce entering the room, Stephanie following behind. His heart was pounding… was Bruce really going to do this? Did he truly think Damian was beyond saving?

"You can't do this to me!" he screamed, curling his fists. Bruce looked at him in shock.

"Damian—"

“Father, I know—” he swallowed thickly, squeezing his eyes shut to push away the onslaught of tears forming. “I know I have failed you, but you can’t— you can’t do this to me!”

His heart was racing, and he couldn’t make out the expression on Bruce’s face. He was so, so  _ scared. _

“I will—“

At that moment, he felt a small stab on his neck. A small, almost nonexistent sting that he practically heard make a little  _ pop!  _ He had been sedated, and he would surely wake up in some facility he couldn’t recognize. Bound to a straitjacket and gagged for the rest of his days while his family moves on without him.

_ It's over. _

_ My life is over. I’ll never see my family again. I’ll never be Robin again. _

_ It's all over. _

  
  


*

Robin — not Damian, Damian was gone —  _ Robin _ was sitting in the ledge of a building. He could see Gotham’s beautiful skyline, he could hear the crows cawing and indistinct conversations from below.

"It's your fault, you know.” A familiar voice hissed. He turned around, his eyes widening.

"Richard...?" His oldest brother was looking at him from the top of the building. He jumped and landed in front of him. Imposing as ever. But he wasn’t dressed as Nightwing.

He was Batman.

It took his mind back to a happier time. Just for a moment, before the man continued to speak.

“Look at you. You’ve become an addict.” He growled in a disappointed tone. “You’re a joke.” 

Robin looked at him, he suddenly got the urge to touch him, to see if he was real. He wasn’t sure if he  _ wanted _ this to be real. Dick — Dick was  _ here  _ and  _ talking to him.  _ That meant so much, but— but the things he was  _ saying.  _ Why was he saying that?

Suddenly, Dick’s boot kicked out, knocking Robin off the edge. It all happened so fast.

He started to yell, to  _ cry  _ for help, but Batman caught him right by his clothes with one hand. Like it was so  _ easy.  _ Like Robin was so  _ easy  _ to catch. 

"Is  _ this _ why you fought so hard to be Robin!?" he yelled at him, gritting his teeth and shaking the boy's body like a rag doll. "To throw it all out by indulging yourself in alcohol and drugs?!"

Robin cried and fought to catch his breath. He looked into the whited out eyes of Batman’s mask. Something hot and  _ terrible _ grew inside of his chest. He thought of crying for help but he knew…

He knew no one would help him.

"No." he whispered, choking on a sob.

"What?"

He sniffed, breathed in deeply and looked at the man intently.

"I said  _ no." _

Batman looked at him strangely.

"I— I  _ fought _ to be Robin, to win my father's approval to fulfill his legacy," he said slowly, something desperate crawling up his throat, "but I learned to take it seriously and become something bigger than myself.” He paused. “Now I need to learn another lesson."

"I need to learn that no one will save me." he lifted his leg and pushed Batman away, letting himself fall deep into the city in the process. There was no ground. There were no people. As he fell down into the void, he allowed himself to relax.

"Only  _ I  _ can save myself." He whispered.   
  
As Damian let himself fall, the blackness of the void soon turned into a blinding white light.

*

He woke up in the hospital bed again. So it  _ wasn’t  _ real. A part of him was glad.

He blinked twice as the fogginess disappeared, and then he slowly sat up on the bed. He looked around cautiously; he may have been out for a few hours or so, since it was now noon and Doctor Thompkins was sitting next to him. 

He recognized her now, he was his father's godmother. 

He swallowed and looked down. He didn’t want to speak to her, not after that pathetic display. He lay back down and turned his back to her.

“You’ve been out for a few hours.” Thompkins said despite this. “I had to sedate you since you were becoming unstable.”

He closed his eyes and sighed

“Yeah, I remember.” He bit his lip. "Is... is he sending me away?" He tried keeping the emotion out of his voice.

She looked at him. “He hasn't decided yet, although I hope he decides sooner rather than later." she responded, then she adjusted herself in her seat.  _ Great. _ Even  _ she _ wanted him gone, and they barely even  _ met. _ "Listen... I know you must be afraid right now… but sometimes people that love us make hard decisions to try and protect us.”

Damian shouldn’t have been surprised that Thompkins sounded like Alfred, considering she probably spent a lot of time with him when taking care of Bruce. They must have shared a lot of wisdom.

"You sound like my grandfather.” Damian hummed, not rudely. Actually, he honestly couldn’t think of a higher compliment.

"He was a great man," Thompkins remarked. “Rehabilitation isn’t a prison, Damian, a lot of good people go to rehab. Good people who just happen have lose control of their lives.”

Was that it? Damian was a good person who lost control of his life?

How shameful.

He rubbed the back of his neck. "I’m sorry for what happened earlier. I'm embarrassed by my behaviour.” he said awkwardly, not used to having such an apologetic tone.

She smiled softly. "Don’t be sorry. Whether you believe it or not, you're still a kid, Damian. And when kids go through the things you’ve had to go through…it’s not a surprise this happened, honestly."

They both stayed silent for a moment. Thompkins stood up and changed the liquid in Damian’s IV fluid bag. “This should help you sleep. Not just be sedated.”

“Thank you.” After a brief pause, he said, "Do I… do I have to go to rehab?”

Leslie bit her lip. “I won’t force you. No one can force you. But I promise, it would be good for you. It would help you.”

Damian closed his eyes. He  _ had  _ to get better. He truly had no other choice at this point.

“Then I’ll go. If it means… getting past this.”

“I admire your perseverance.” she smiled. “But, there’s something you need to know." She turned to him, looking into his eyes.

"The road to recovery isn’t linear, Damian, you have to set clear and short term goals in order to completely heal in the long term. Don’t expect it to be quick and easy, that's all I'm saying.”

Damian curled into himself. “Okay.” He said meekly. He pulled the thin blanket over his body and stared up at the ceiling. “You may leave.”

Leslie smiled and chuckled a bit. “I guess old habits die hard.” She stood up and walked to the door. “Have a nice night, Damian.”

He nodded and took a deep breath. “Goodnight.”

Once she was gone, he closed his eyes and sighed. He was so  _ not  _ ready for this.


	3. Beginning of the Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day one.

Damian woke up to the sun rising and the specs of sunlight hitting him in the eyes. He frowned and turned around to avoid it. Despite his eyes still being closed and only being half-awake, he could tell something was wrong.

Someone was watching him.

He immediately sat up straight and rubbed his eyes. He looked around nervously, but strangely, nobody was in the room with him. He  _ knew  _ he was being watched. 

Upon closer inspection he did see something, something that... sort of  _ vibrated _ in the air, a transparent figure between him and the rest of the room. The figure eyed him closely as his mind finally made the connection.

"Maya?” 

The aforementioned girl started to materialize herself in front of him. She was wearing her Nobody suit, to get in his room for sure. The front of her helmet opened and showed her face. Maya’s expression… Damian had never seen it before in her. 

“Maya--”

“I called you.” Her voice was rough, intense to match the look in her eyes. “I called you last night because I wanted to know where the  _ hell _ you’d been. I… I got to the living room and I saw Kid Flash and Red Arrow watching a video of you being— being  _ drunk _ and acting like a  _ jackass _ at a high school dance!”

Damian's whole body tensed up. What the hell had he done during those 20 minutes? Had someone taken a video? Was it online? How many views did it have?  _ Fuck… _

“And then…after I break about a  _ million  _ laws hacking into all the hospital radios in Gotham, trying to find out where the  _ fuck _ you were— I find out you had an overdose. And  _ now…  _ now I’m  _ here.” _

Once finished with her rant, she stared into Damian’s eyes. Damian felt a lump in his throat, his body urged him to look away but he didn’t  _ deserve _ to hide from Maya’s wrath. He needed to accept that this was  _ his fault  _ and Maya was going to give up on him just like he  _ deserved. _

Before he could say anything (and really, what would he even say?), someone else walked into the room. It was Doctor Thompkins and she brought two people with her that Damian immediately identified as Nell and Colin.  _ Shit. _

“Well, I see you already have a visitor.” She noted, raising her eyebrow.

Damian looked up at her, playing with his hands. He could only push out a small hum of acknowledgment.

“I’m Maya. I’m his sister.” The girl crossed her arms and nodded at the doctor.

“Hi. I’m Colin, and this is Nell.” Colin said politely to Maya. “We’re Damian’s friends from school."

Maya regarded him strangely, then looked at Damian, seemingly for an explanation. Damian, however, had other things in mind.

“Why didn’t you tell me someone had recorded me during Homecoming...?” Damian asked his two school friends quietly.

“Oh… well…” Colin bit his lip nervously.

“It’s not like you were acting out or anything.” Nell shrugged. “The video was only a few seconds long.”

"What happened?”

Both Nell and Colin looked away, neither wanted to be the one to speak. Damian gave up on them and looked at Maya.

“You were laughing. Just—  _ laughing.”  _ Maya explained finally. “Like you were  _ insane.” _

Damian nodded and looked back at his school friends.

“Was it funny?”

All four people in the room seemed to freeze, confused at the odd, uncharacteristic question.

“F-funny?” Nell asked, furrowing her eyebrows.

“Yeah. Was the video funny?”

Colin, Maya and Nell all exchanged looks.

“Um, at— the  _ time,  _ it  _ seemed  _ funny…” Colin scratched the back of his neck nervously. “I mean, you  _ looked  _ like you were having a nice time…”

Damian pulled his knees up to his chest and nodded.

Even Thompkins, who usually was slick and witty, seemed speechless. “Well… Damian, your father will be here soon to pick you up.”

Damian simply nodded as he continued to keep his knees up to his chest. He felt absolutely embarrassed by the video, but he didn’t want to show it to the others.

Maya looked at him with sympathy, no matter how mad she was at him, he was still her brother. 

Leslie looked at both of them. She sensed she didn't belong in the conversation. "I'll… leave you four alone." she said and then turned around to leave.

"Damian..." she said carefully as if he was some kind of scared animal that could run away. "You know we care about you."

"Yeah!" Colin agreed quickly, and Nell nodded. "We do."

"You should let us in." she continued. "I know it must be hard for you, after the death of your grandfather…” Damian winced. ”But please don't try to face this alone."

"You have us, and your family, and no matter  _ what _ , we’ll be here for you."

Damian nodded quietly. Nothing was said for a short amount of time. He figured they should know.

“My father is going to send me to a rehabilitation center.”

Colin’s eyes widened, as did Nell’s. Maya didn’t react, either she already knew or she didn’t—

Didn’t  _ care. _

He swallowed the lump in his throat as nobody said anything. “It’s for the best, anyway. It will help.”

Colin and Nell looked at each other, then back at Damian. “Yeah! And we’ll totally visit you. All the time.”

Maya nodded and smiled. “We’ll visit you. Promised.”

*

Bruce accidentally hit a bump on the road, making Damian jump and wake up from his nap.

His father looked at him from the mirror, trying to mask his overwhelming sadness and dread. He had thought  _ so _ many times about turning the car around and forgetting about all of this, but he knew this was for the best.

_ He was doing the right thing _ , he told himself.

He didn't know if he was glad Damian was being so calm about the whole situation. They hadn't really talked, not since last night, and he was beginning to wonder if the boy would ever speak to him again. The thought scared him, that Damian couldn’t realize that this was  _ good,  _ or worse, that this wasn’t even good and everything would go wrong and Damian would hate him for the rest of his life. That  _ couldn’t  _ happen...

Meanwhile, Damian was sitting in the back. His anxiety increased as the car got closer to its destination. As soon as Doctor Thompkins had given him his phone back he had made research of when his father was sending him: Gotham Pines, an institution that had been present since the electroshock and  _ lobotomy _ days. He only hoped they didn't practice those anymore.

He sighed and put his head against the window. His hands were shaking, and so were his legs. Something had been off about him the whole day. The doctor had warned him about the symptoms of withdrawal that would start to show, but he didn't expect them to arrive _that_ _fast_. He pressed his fingernails and against his palms and winced as crescent-shaped indents began to form.

"Damian?" Bruce asked, clear worry in his tone.

"I'm fine."

He couldn't afford to make a scene, not in front of his father. Not now.

He looked behind the car. Stephanie had been kind enough to pack some things for his stay. Damian wondered what he did to deserve a big sister like Steph.   
  


_ She deserves better than me. Hopefully she’ll realize that once I’m gone. _

Before Damian could dwell on the thought, he felt the car stop.  _ Fuck.  _ They were here.

Damian felt time had advanced too fast for his liking. He and his father stayed seated for a while, neither speaking a word. They were finally  _ here _ and there was so much to do today in so little time.

A little tap on the window made them both jump in their seats. They both turned around and saw a teenage girl, a bit older than Damian, knocking on the window of the car's door.

"Hey, I'm Charlie!" She said happily. She had dark red hair and freckles all over her face. "I think I'm supposed to show you around."

"Oh, yes we'll be out in a minute." he said to the girl and she responded with a thumbs up and walked away.

Bruce turned to face Damian for the first time that day. Damian looked at him, almost shaking with anticipation. His father put his hand inside of his coat and pulled out a white envelope.

"Here." he said quietly, handing it to the boy.

"What is this?" Damian asked, furrowing his brows.

Bruce hesitated to respond. "I-I wrote you a letter."

He glanced up at him.

"A letter?"

"Yes.” He swallowed. “Just read it when I'm gone. Please.”

"Why can’t you say it to me in person?” He snapped. “What’s so important in this letter that you can’t say it right here?”

Bruce looked down, still holding the envelope. He was speechless.

"Whatever." he snatched the envelope out of his father's hand and opened the car's door, making sure to not leave his backpack behind.

As he walked, he was suddenly hit with the cruel realization that this would be the last time he would see his Baba in a  _ long _ time. Perhaps he had been a little too cross with him. He shook his head and kept walking, making sure to not look behind.

He looked at the institution in front of him, there was a big sign that read _ "GOTHAM PINES" _ in front of what was essentially a cul de sac with a house as big as the Wayne manor on it. It was all painted in white and Charlie was waiting for him in front of the front door.

“Hey Dami! Can I call you that?” She smiled.

“Please don’t.” He said quietly. Charlie nodded, seemingly unfazed, and opened the door to his…

To his  _ home. _

*

"This is your room." Charlie stood in the doorway of a small room, with two beds and two shelves on either side of the room. One bed was already occupied. He could see a body under the covers with only a small fraction of brown hair on the pillow.

"Oh, and that's Billy." She nodded her head to the occupied bed.

"Billy?” Damian asked. That name rang a bell for some reason, but before he could think of that he noticed something else about the boy.

"He's drunk." Damian announced bluntly after quickly scanning him.

Charlie awkwardly laughed but then she abruptly stopped. "What makes you say that?”

"I can tell.”

She laughed nervously again. "He's probably just tired." She dismissed. "Anyways, a nurse will probably come to give you your schedule for your chore of the day." 

Damian rolled his eyes. Great. Chores.

"Have you never done chores before?" She asked.

"No, I had a butler."

Charlie laughed, then looked at him. "Really?"

Before Damian had a chance to answer, a bell rang and someone talked over a speaker somewhere in the facility.

"All patients must go to the lunch tables for dinner."

"I'll stay here." Damian shrugged. "I need to unpack."

"Actually, uh, dinner is mandatory." Charlie explained. "And I'm not supposed to leave until I get you there."

Damian sighed and left his stuff on the bed next to Billy's. He couldn't really resist it, and he didn't really feel like causing trouble on the first day of his stay. 

Charlie left the room and Damian followed behind through a stretched hallway. Soon enough, the other patients join them, all going to the same place. 

Damian bit his lip as he analyzed the rest of the children. All of them reeked of cigarettes and had dusty nails.  _ Hm. _

Damian wasn’t really a smoker, despite everything else he would dabble in. Sure, he’s had cigarettes, but he never found much of an appeal. But, if that was the best he was gonna get here, it’s not like he’d complain.

They all arrived at the big cafeteria in the center of the building. There were big tables put in vertical order all round the room and a kitchen counter in the Westside with a lunch lady who seemed less than elated to be there. 

Soon enough Damian went to the line of people expecting to get their dinner, he took his tray but for some reason his body was still shaking.

He wondered if that was the reason why some people, especially teenage patients, were staring at him. He gave them the sharpest look he could and they immediately turned around. Why the hell was he attracting so much unwanted attention?

He finally got his answer in the form of a reporter on the TV in the communal space.

_ "Heeyyy!! I’m Cat Grant and this is Gotham Gossip! Today we have come across a video of one of the sons of billionaire philanthropist Bruce Wayne, in which he appears to be drunk on a school dance. The video has since gone viral with almost 100,000 views." _

_ Oh fuck.  _ Damian wanted more than anything for the Earth to swallow him right there and then. He immediately dropped the tray and threw his hood over his head, running away as fast and as far as he could.

His heart was racing, his cheeks flushed pink. Fuck.  _ Fuck.  _ He was so embarrassed.

He immediately found himself in the bathroom of the facility. He was shaking and crying as he held onto the sink of the bathroom, looking at himself in the mirror. He wasn’t usually this sensitive, and he could have easily told the staff to fuck off and change the goddamn channel but in a fight or flight situation, he chose flight.

Damian wouldn’t admit it, but he was terrified of what was happening to him — not only was he shaking but sweating as well, his ears were ringing like hell and he was pretty sure he had heart palpitations. He felt like he was dying.

Damian's stomach suddenly got into fluctuation, he felt it’s contents rise up. Fuck. He ran as fast as he could into one of the stalls and in less than three seconds all the little food he had in the day was gone. He stayed in front of the toilet, kneeling, practically unable to move.

“Oh, my Rao, you’re so  _ needy.”  _

Damian froze. That voice.  _ No, It couldn’t be. _ He slowly turned around and saw an  _ older _ Jon Kent levitating, looking down on him like he was  _ nothing.  _ Less than  _ scum. _

“We were never friends.” He said in an older, deeper man’s voice, not the cracking, puberty filled one Damian had known him to have. “Why would I be friends with someone like you, someone so pathetic?”

Damian couldn’t speak, not even if he wanted to. His heart rate had slowed down so quickly it actually  _ hurt.  _

“This isn’t real.” He muttered, turning away from him.

“It might not be real, but it’s  _ reality.” _ ‘Jon’ hissed. “If it weren’t true… why else would your father leave you here to die?” 

The man let out a small laugh before going silent. When Damian turned, the figure had disappeared. Good.  _ Good. _

“Um, hello?” A voice called from the bathroom’s door, as Damian saw a pair of shoes from under the stalls. “Is anybody in here?”

“Um, Charlie asked me to go get my roommate.” The voice said, walking closer to Damian’s stall who was still hanging onto the toilet.

The steps finally stopped as a teenager, the same age as Damian, stood in front of him. He was of average height, had brown eyes and brown hair partially covered by a beanie hat. It was Billy. 

“Woah, dude, are you okay?” he asked

“I’m fine.” Damian answered, standing up slowly.

“You don’t look fine.” The boy whispered. “D-do you want me to call a nurse, or—”

_ “No!”  _ Damian hissed, then lowered his voice. “No, I don’t need anyone.”

“Alright…” He said, seeming hesitant, “but at least come with me so Charlie doesn’t kill me.”

He winced. “Fine.” He wasn’t ready to meet her, the peppy teenaged girl had reminded him too much of Stephanie.

The  _ last _ thing he wanted was a reminder of how he let down yet another person in his life.


	4. A Misfit Start

Damian followed Billy, slowly due to his leg, to where Charlie was waiting for them. They passed some patients who looked at them both curiously. Damian looked down, uncharacteristically flustered and unable to respond to them with a sharp look as he usually would.

_ What an embarrassing display of weakness...  _ he thought miserably.  _ I bet Father is going to hear about this soon _ .

Ever since he had left Bruce speechless in the car he hadn't thought about the man, but now he could do nothing but  _ think.  _ About him, about his words, about the letter sitting in his backpack, hidden like a snake in the sand. What had the man written on a flimsy piece of paper that he couldn't just say to Damian in person? 

Maybe he’s just overthinking the whole thing. Perhaps it’s just a simple list of things to do, or something he feared to say with others around.

_ Or maybe he wrote how much of a disappointment you are and how he's abandoning you. _

"Damian?" 

Damian frowned and looked up at the boy in front of him. They were in a different room, with couches and “inspirational” posters plastered on the wall.

"Huh?"

"Uh, sorry. Is that your name? Charlie said that was your name. We're here." Billy rubbed the back of his neck bashfully.

In the middle of the room, Charlie was sitting on top of a table, looking over some papers. 

"Hey Damian! Please come in!" she smiled at him sweetly. Damian turned up his nose slightly but obeyed, sitting on one of the couches.

She cleared her throat slightly. "I wanted to talk about what happened today.” Damian internally winced.  _ Oh fuck. _ “What Cat Grant said on TV was  _ wrong,  _ Damian, and I want you to know that we sat everyone down and told them to be comprehensive of your situation."

Damian felt like he could throw up. “So you ordered them all to pity me?! Treat me like a baby?!”

He thought being the rich kid going to rehab, surrounded by the press would be hard. But being a pathetic charity case? That was  _ infinitely _ worse.

"What? No!" she put a hand against her chest in dismay.

”Um, I mean, kinda." Billy shrugged. He was standing behind the couch. Charlie glared at him and he swallowed nervously, looking away.

"As I was saying…” She continued “I understand what you're going through. Nobody wants to be the center of attention in rehab."

"Except for tomorrow when we have group therapy, right Charlotte?" Billy asked with his arms crossed. 

"Group therapy?" Damian asks.  _ Great, now I have to share my grievances with a group of strangers. _

"Yes. That is an obligatory part of the program," Charlie explained, "but don't worry, the group is very supportive of each other. You'll fit right in."

"I doubt it.” He muttered absently. “Would that be all?" He asked, wanting more than anything just to get the hell out of there.

She tilted her head. “Well, yes.”

*

Damian is woken up the next day by an ear-splitting alarm at 8:30AM. He usually didn't have a problem with waking up early in the morning, but he depended on his internal clock for it, as he hated alarms, and not to mention he had an emotional breakdown last night that left him exhausted and drained.

His roommate — Billy, he remembered distantly — seemed to be in the same conundrum as he groaned and put his pillow over his head. Damian ignored him and slowly got out of bed, looking for some fresh clothes that Steph had packed for him. As he picked up a clean t-shirt, something that seemed like a crumpled paper fell from it to the ground.

Damian frowned and bent down to pick up the object. He opened it curiously, then his eyes widened.

It was a photo of him and Stephanie as Robin and Batgirl, cut out from an article from  _ The Gotham Gazette _ about how they both had taken down a major gun trafficker. In the photo, Batgirl had opted for a goofy pose, smiling and making bunny ears over Robin who was frowning and with his arms crossed.

Damian's heart ached at the memory. He quickly folded the photo and put it back where he found it. He felt a little stronger, just a little bit. Like a weight had been lifted suddenly. It had reminded him of what Steph had told him when he was just the cocky, stupid Robin.

_ "There's room for hope." _

And even though a part of Damian believed it, it was nothing short of foolish to feel  _ hope _ of all things at a time like this. He simply couldn't deny that Stephanie had that effect on people where he made them feel hopeful even in the most hopeless of situations, that was undoubtedly her best quality. 

He needed to get better. If not for his father, then for her.

_ Even when she's not here, she convinces me to do things I don't want to do _ .

And with that in mind he left the room to have breakfast before his first group therapy session.

*

The place where the session was being held was a small room with chairs arranged in a circle. Damian was the first to show up in the room, followed by Billy. Damian sat down, but groaned in annoyance when Billy sat next to him.

“Sorry, but Charlie makes us do this thing where roommates have to bond and shit.” he said, picking up on Damian’s annoyance.

“I see. How much will it cost to avoid it?” he asked, looking at his pockets.

“Hey I don’t want to be here either, this is only my second time here. But I would rather not have to face the wrath of Charlie.” He grimaced.

Damian looked away, not thinking much of the conversation, although he  _ did  _ take a mental note of the older teenage girl probably having another face she didn’t let people see, a dark side. 

“C’mon just tell me one thing about you so you won’t make a liar out of me.” Billy pleaded, turning to his side on the chair.

“Fine…” He thought for a moment. “ I have a cow.” A pause. “I’m serious.”

“See? It wasn’t that hard.” Billy smiled. Which had Damian feeling something weird in his stomach, some sort of heat that wasn’t there before. Probably something he ate at the cafeteria.

Soon enough, the room started filling up with different people, some of them stopping to pick up some water before settling into the uncomfortable plastic chairs. They were mostly teens in the range of 15-19, including Charlie who entered the room seeming chirply and radiant as always. It was a little surprising for Damian when he saw a full grown adult walk in, with what seemed like a blue jumpsuit and a red cape resembling Superman.

_ Tacky. _

“Hello kids!” The man said, just as perky as Charlie. “Sorry for being late, I had a problem at the cafeteria, Doris doesn't make toast like she used to.” He laughed at his own joke and then took out a clipboard from seemingly nowhere. “It seems like we have a new member here.”

_ Fuck me. _

“Damian Wayne. Wait —Wayne as in…? Agh— nevermind. Welcome! My name is Doctor Jason Hart, also known as The Protector! Now, you might be wondering:  _ What's with the cape?” _

“I wasn’t.” Damian corrected this so called “Protector”.

He continued anyway, undeterred. “That’s a great question! You see, I used to be a superhero, an honorary member of the Teen Titans, but I also used to take drugs.” He sighed sadly, almost comically. “It was a dark chapter in my life, but with the help of some perseverance, therapy and a helpful support system I managed to turn my life around. And now I’m here! To help you and many others through the rough path of recovery!” 

Charlie applauded him at the end of his monologue, but others don't seem to share her enthusiasm. Most of them just thought he was kinda lame and cheesy. Damian, on the other hand, could only think about the Titans again thanks to Dr Hart mentioning them.  
  
 _This clown worked with Richard's team?_ _  
_ __  
Against his will, Damian started to think about Grayson again. About how much he missed him. It kind of took down all of the adrenaline Stephanie's photo had put on him. He could only now think about how bad of an idea this was.

He took a look at the people sitting around him. He wasn't better than them, no matter how hard that was to admit. If someone who had worked as a hero along with the Titans could end up in this place, what stopped Damian, who had a less-than-stellar upbringing, from falling off the wagon? 

He shook his head and took a deep breath as he felt his heartbeat accelerate.  _ No.  _ He wouldn't let  _ anything _ in this place get to him. He was Damian Wayne Al Ghul, he was  _ not  _ going to let this beat him. He was gonna go through this like a man and he would make it out unscathed.

It's what Richard would've wanted.

"Okay, so we better start." Jason clapped his hands. "Charlie, would you like to talk first? The theme of this week is ‘'The first time I drank'."

Charlie shifted in her seat and cleared her throat, Damian looked attentively at her. Maybe he would finally get some answers on who this elusive character was.

"Hm. The first time I drank it was at a friend’s party...I drank a can of beer and it made me 'lose' myself a little bit, it made me looser and gossipy and other things...basically, I thought, it made me  _ cool.  _ And-and I liked being cool, I liked the attention I received from boys and girls, so I started to think: 'Well If I'm cool  _ this _ way, what’s stopping me from being cool — being  _ this way  _ — all the time?

"I wanted people to like me, basically. But it became a problem.” She frowned a bit before peeking up again. Damian furrowed his eyebrows, knowing it must have gone unnoticed from everyone else.

"Thank you for sharing, Charlie. Alcohol, drugs and any substances really, they can make us  _ loosen up  _ so to speak, and sometimes we might confuse  _ that _ version of ourselves with a better version. But it's just simply not true.

"The best version of ourselves is the one that takes responsibility for one's actions, one that's conscious of both their flaws and of their virtues, and what it means to be human in all its glory."

Damian's eyes widened at the profound wisdom coming from the man.  _ Wow.  _ He almost felt a little guilty for overtly mischaracterizing him. Although before he could process the thought fully, The man looked at him.

"What about you, Damian? When was the first time you drank?"

The question caught the teenager off guard, as he felt every pair of eyes directly pointing at his direction. Something cold crawled on his back as he remembered the first time he drank…

He thought for a moment, he couldn't really say anything without compromising himself, because when it happened, he was not only in his Robin gear but he was also trespassing in a hospital room.

_ It was the night after Dick had gotten shot. He had been waiting in the ducts for the whole afternoon, waiting for the doctors to leave. He had only gotten a small glimpse of Richard's face through the small metal bars.  _

_ He saw someone through the bars, even though he had checked the doctor's schedule a few times and was sure no one else was supposed to come in. _

_ He almost fell through the grate as he realized who was standing there. _

_ Slade Wilson. _

_ He wrapped his fingers on the sai in his utility belt, just in case he needed it. Although he didn't believe Slade would do anything in such a populated space, he couldn't be prepared enough. He could see the man wasn't armed, but he was holding something on his left arm. Upon closer inspection Damian could see it was a bottle. Of alcohol, most likely. _

_ "I suppose this is game over for us." Slade muttered drunkenly. "We had a good run." _

_ He proceeded to take a sip from the bronze liquid inside of the bottle. That would've been the end of it if it weren't for the man tilting his head up and looking directly to where Damian was.  _

_ "He's not gonna wake up, kid." _

_ Damian cursed under his breath and pulled the grate out of the way, landing on his feet gracefully. _

_ "You don't know that." Damian glared at the one-eyed mercenary. _

_ "Of course I do." _

_ Slade looked at the bottle, then at Damian. _

_ "Do you want some?" _

_ Damian saw no malice behind the man's gesture, and either way, his assassin training made him immune to all types of poisons imaginable. _

_ He considered it for a moment.  _

No reason to say no, I suppose.

_ He took the bottle and drank from it, but he immediately spit it out with a cough. _

_ "How can you stand this?" He asked. The older man shrugged. _

_ "It's not about the taste." _

*

Damian ran across the facility, ignoring the sound of the footsteps behind him. It was the second time he had done this in the span of 24 hours, but he didn't care anymore. The tension had just gotten too much to handle. He needed to let it out somehow, and he knew just how.

He stopped running and went around the corner, pausing for a moment until he was sure, then put a hand in front of Billy who was coming down the hall.

"Wow, what the fuck dude? Are you a fucking ninja?" He panted. The chase obviously took a lot out of him.

"It doesn't matter. Listen, I'll buy every cigarette you have." He said in a quiet voice.

"Wh— huh?" Billy stuttered nervously.

"You heard me.”

He looked away. "I-I don't know what you're talking about man.”

"Don't lie to me, Batson. I can see your ashy nails, even when you try to hide them. Plus your hair, mouth, and clothes smell like cigarettes." Damian glared at him. "I'll give you $200."

The brunette's eyes widened. He looked around and got closer to Damian's ear.

"Alright, fine, I'll give them to you after lunch. Deal?" Billy whispered.

"Deal. When is lunch?"

"Um... right now."

"Great." Damian was relieved he only had to survive a few more minutes of this.


	5. Trades

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian wants some cigarettes.

Damian anxiously looked over the clock in the wall of the cafeteria. His heart skyrocketed inside of his chest and his palms became grossly sweaty. He reminded himself to be patient and took a deep breath. 

Billy was sitting next to him, watching him. He seemed rather nervous as well. According to what Damian could read of his body language, this was probably his first time doing something like this.

"Did you really mean it?” He asked quietly. “The 200 bucks?"

"Yes. Now be quiet before someone hears you."

Billy opened his mouth to say something, but quickly snapped it shut with wide eyes. “Ah—“

"Damian! Just the person I wanted to see!" The Protector smiled.

_ Oh, fuck. _

"Billy, will you give us a moment please?" The caped man asked.

"S-sure." Billy nodded nervously and left the room, leaving Jason and Damian alone.

The Protector sighed and took a seat. "Listen, Buddy, I wanted to talk about what happened a few minutes ago. I know that the first time of group therapy can be harsh. I wasn't much older than you in my first time here and I was also in a pretty dark place… but I learned soon enough I could make advances by talking to people and being honest with myself, you know what I mean?"

"Yes." Damian answered harshly. Truth be told, he wasn’t even listening. The man’s words went in one ear and out the other. He wanted more than anything for this guy to leave so he could just smoke.

"Great, we have a great activity tomorrow for you and the rest of the group, so be patient! Things usually get worse before they get better!" With that the man clapped and left the room, much to Damian’s relief. 

With that, Damian stayed put in his seat until he was sure the man had left his field of hearing. When he saw him turn around in a corner he stood up and went to his room.

  
  


It felt like forever until lunch was over, but Damian and Billy sighed in relief when the bell that signified the end of lunch rang.

Damian and Billy quickly walked out of the cafeteria, it would have been obvious for a detective or even the Batman that they were up to something, but they weren't being too suspicious for the common bystander.

They both walked to the garden behind the institution. They slowly opened the door and quickly look to see if there was someone looking.

When they didn't see anyone looking, the turned back to each other. Damian quickly handed Billy the 200 bucks, and was waiting for Billy to hand him the cigarettes.

Damian’s eyes widened when he heard someone clear their throat.  _ Shit. Shit shit shit.  _ He was so screwed.

Billy looked up. “Charlie—“

"What is this?" She stepped closer and took a look. "Cigarettes… William Batson! How could you?!”

"I-I can explain! It’s not what it looks like." Billy squeaked before Charlie glared at him.

"Save it. As for you Damian, this is your first strike.” Charlie said as she carried the 2 boys by their shirts and teleported them back to their room.

Damian was absolutely shocked that Charlie was a metahuman. His head was spinning from being teleported. Before he could say anything, Charlie snatched the cigarettes from Billy’s hand and teleported away.

Billy sighed shakily, part in defeat and part in guilt. “Oh shit…”

Damian was much too shocked to focus on the botched deal. 

“How can a meta be so open about their powers?”

“She used to work with the Birds of Prey before getting addicted.” Billy sighed. “After her own rehabilitation she decided to retire being a hero and focus on helping others.”

  
_ Shit. She worked with Barbara? _ _   
  
_

Damian thought about the new revelation for a moment before quickly turning around to scrutinize Billy. “How did you even know that about Charlie?” he asked, getting suspicious.

He bit his lip defensively. “None of your business.” 

Damian’s eyes lingered on him for a while before eventually leaving it alone. So this kid  _ did  _ have some secrets after all.

*

Damian walked across the facility for his first day of individual therapy. He was loathing every step he took. Especially since he had a pretty good guess on who his therapist would be.

"Damian!" Dr. Hart said happily as he saw the kid entering his office. "Please come in, I was waiting for you.”

Damian had never been in a psychiatrist office but it looked kind of what he expected it to be. There was a couch, the walls were filled with "motivational" posters and there was a desk filled with different photos of other patients.

"Please, take a seat."

Damian obeyed reluctantly. He hoped this would go as quickly as possible, so he could go back to his room to find a solution to his withdrawal. Although he wouldn't admit it, it was becoming almost painful for him.

"So, how are you Damian?" Doctor Hart asked while he sat at his desk.

"I'm fine." He mumbled.

"Really? I mean… great!" He smiled. "For a second I was worried you might have been upset after what happened in the group session yesterday... but if you're fine then that’s great!"

Damian winced. Was this really the best help his father could afford? Did they truly expect to confide his most deep and dark grievances into  _ this _ guy?

"But, seriously, if you need to talk about what happened yesterday then please do so. This is a safe place, and nothing will ever leave this room.”

Damian simply nodded, his eyes drifting out to the window. Maybe this would take longer than he thought.

"Well… if you don't want to talk about it, then we better talk about what happened today with Billy, huh?”

Fuck. A deep frown found its way on his face. No, he didn’t want to talk about Billy, or group therapy, or  _ anything.  _ He hated this man, he hated this place, he hated Charlie and he hated Billy and he hated his father for sending him here. He hated Slade for giving him alcohol. He hated Dick and Jon for abandoning him. He hated Colin and Nell for seeing him overdose. He hated Maya for being mad at him. He hated Leslie for suggesting this and he hated Stephanie for having the gall to  _ worry  _ about him.

Hart said something, but Damian wasn’t listening anymore. His heart was turning to ice as he thought about everything that led him here. All the people that fucked him over, all the bad decisions he made. If he could go back, what would he change? Everything, nothing? Warn Dick not to waste his time? Run away? Not break his father's heart?

Maybe he should’ve just stayed dead.

Hart was calling Damian’s name, but this time, Damian was ignoring him on purpose. Who  _ cares  _ what a man with a desk and a PhD has to say? Like the guy could see through him. No one knew Damian like Damian. What right does this stranger have telling him what to feel and what it means? Who  _ cares? _

The tree branch outside shimmied a bit. Damian’s eyes were fixated on that. Unlike the wind blowing the tree to the east, this particular branch was bouncing up and down, like it was being shaken. 

He looked back at Hart. “May I be excused?”

Jason’s eyes widened a bit and he raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

He bit his lip and looked at the clock. It had only been, what, ten minutes? This was  _ never  _ going to end…

“I want to leave.”

The doctor cleared his throat. “We’re still having the session, Mr. Wayne.”

Damian felt fidgety. Most likely from the withdrawal…

“Look, can I just—” he glanced nervously out the window. “Get some fresh air or something? Please?”

He bit his lip. “I-I suppose, but—”

_ “Thank you.”  _ He nearly sprinted out of the session room. Hart was calling out for him, but he ignored it and kept walking — well,  _ running. _ _   
_ _   
_ He soon stopped and hid himself when he saw that Charlie was walking by. He sneakily followed her, making sure to stay hidden.   
  
Damian soon saw Charlie enter a room. He wondered if the room had the cigarettes Billy had as he waited for Charlie to leave. After a little while, she walked out of the room.

_ Now’s my chance. _ _   
_ _   
_ Damian quickly snuck into the room once he made sure Charlie was far enough away from it. The room had a bunch of drawers, which Damian assumed were filled with things that Charlie had confiscated. Damian opened one of these drawers and was shocked to see that there was an entire stache of cigarettes in there.   
  
_ I can finally get my fix to get rid of this fidgety feeling. _

Damian’s thoughts were interrupted by a small meow from outside. __

A small white kitten was hanging on for dear life on a tree branch right outside the room. 

_ Must have been the same cat that caused that tree branch to shimmie. _

Damian grunted and put the stache back when it was before he went over to the window. From there he could see how the kitten had gotten its eye scratched, out probably by fighting another cat. She was also a female for what Damian could see.

_ A little warrior  _ Damian could relate. He deduced that she would have probably taken comfort in the tree branch to escape whoever did that to her eye but now she couldn't get out.

Damian shaked as he got into the widow's cornice. In normal circumstances he would have been able to just jump in, grab the cat and jump back inside but he was too sick to do so now.

He sighed as he locked his eyes on the cat. Who seemed as if she was about to fall down due to the branch no longer supporting her weight.

Damian pathetically extended his arm to the animal and shakily made a motion for her to come to him but she seemed distrustful. She looked at him as if he was an opponent.

_ Oh for fucks sake.  _

Damian thought as he got closer to the branch. It was enough for him to lose balance and fall out of the window. He landed in the bushes with a  _ thud,  _ groaning to himself.

He stood up, shaking the leaves off and getting closer to the tree. He carefully started to climb it, his limbs shaking from the effort. This normally would be so easy…

He reached an arm out and grabbed the kitten with one hand, wrapping his fist around her little body. She was thin, thinner than she should’ve been. His eyebrows creased in worry as he plucked her off the tree and gathered her into his arms. She let out a pathetic mewl, scratching uselessly at Damian’s hand in a blind panic.

The girl was defenseless, that was obvious enough. One of her eyes were missing, she was caked in dirt and mud and shaking all over. Not to mention terribly malnourished.

“Where is your mother?” He asked quietly, more to himself. He jumped to the ground and climbed back through the window, running his finger over her head soothingly. The cigarettes forgotten, he left the room hastily and locked himself inside the bathroom. Carefully, he started scrubbing the cat clean of the dirt and mud, the water taking a brownish color under her as she was washed off. He turned the water off and let her shake the water off, crying out as she tried and failed to climb out of the sink. Damian sighed and picked her up again, hiding her in his pocket.

He got back to his room, where Billy was laying in bed. He cursed under his breath and went over to his bed.

“How’d it go?”

“Leave me alone.” He pulled her out of his pocket and hid her under his blanket.

“That bad, huh? Hart can be a real ass sometimes.”

He rolled his eyes. “Get out.”

“Hey, it’s my room too.” Billy frowned. “What are you even hiding?”

Damian growled and curled his fists. God this kid was annoying. Too many damn questions.

“Billy?” Charlie suddenly called. “You have a phone call!”

_ Thank fuck. _

Billy furrowed his eyebrows and left the room. Damian let out a sigh of relief, pulling the kitten back up and setting her on the pillow. She looked better now that she was clean, but things were far from okay still.

The realization suddenly hit Damian that he either might not be able to keep the kitty.

_ Shit. _

He had to think of a name.

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. Damian slowly quickly placed a blanket on the kitten before opening the door. He was shocked to see Charlie standing there.

"I can explain." Damian said, worried that he'll get punished by her.

"I know you came into my room, but I'm giving you a pass for now cause you didn't take anything." Charlie sternly told Damian.

“I also saw what you did for that kitten ”

Damian was about to deny the existence of the kitten but a soft meow came from under the blanket.

He swallowed. “Don’t take her away.” He tried to sound firm, but it came off as a plea. “She won’t survive alone.”

Charlie sighed. "I know non-therapy pets aren't allowed here, but I'll allow you to keep the kitten only for a week. And only if you promise to attend all therapy sessions.”

Charlie extended her hand and Damian shook it awkwardly. “Fine.”

The girl turned around to leave but then suddenly stopped and turned around to look at Damian “Oh, and Damian?”

“Yes?”

“You received a call while you were with Dr Hart.” 

He frowned. “From who?”

"His name is Ravi.”


	6. Bound to Break

Damian's face lit up at the mention of Ravi. However, his smile immediately dropped at the thought of his father figure, the first male who ever cared for him, hearing about him in a place like this one. He sighed and followed Charlie to where the phones were, he needed to face his fate like a man.

“He left you a message in the answering machine. Make sure of going to your room after you’re done.” Charlie told the young boy. Damian nodded and picked up the tube and pressed the message button. He immediately heard a cough on the other side of the line. Damian’s heart tingled a little upon thinking of the old man in the dawn of his life. They probably had so much time together and Damian had decided to waste it

“Hello...Damian...Ms. Ducard has decided to inform me of your situation. You can imagine how much I worried when I heard that you were hospitalized…” Damian looked down in shame.

But the next thing the man said surprised Damian. “It’s... not your fault. It was expected, to say the least, that something like this would happen, You're just a _ tifl  _ and all of the things that they made you do, the things I’ve witnessed ever since you were born...You were bound to break at some point." The words that Ravi said filled Damian with a sense of guilt, however that feeling was cut through by Ravi's next words. "But there was also some wiseness in the teachings of the League."

"Do you remember the ancient art of Kintsugi...Of repairing things with gold? Repairing things with gold only makes them more beautiful."

_ "You just need to be filled with gold...” _

Damian felt his eyes welling up with tears at Ravi's beautiful words. He was absolutely relieved that Ravi wasn't ashamed of him. Soon, the call recording ended.

"T-thank you Ravi." Damian whispered to himself as he wiped his eyes and walked out of the phone room, where Charlie was waiting outside for him. 

"How'd it go?" Charlie curiously asked Damian. 

"It went well." Damian nonchalantly said as he walked towards his room before turning to face Charlie. "Thanks for letting me keep the kitten."

Charlie smiled back. "You're welcome." With that, Damian walked back inside his room. He saw the small white kitten sleeping on the bed. The Arab teen smiled softly as he sat down on the bed, and gently pet the kitty.

At the sound of footsteps, Damian panicked. He bit down on his lip and pulled the covers over the kitten, much to the animal’s dismay. She mewled in protest, shimmying under the covers for a moment.

Billy stepped inside, taking a breath and turning to his own bed with his arms crossed.

Damian raised an eyebrow. “Hello.”

“Don’t talk to me.” He muttered, and Damian could only assume it was meant to be rude, but he sounded more like a… sad puppy.

Damian huffed and tapped his foot. “What.”

“You got me in trouble! I promised my family that I would get better and you’re fucking it up!”

Damian looked down at his bed, where the kitten was still squirming around. He was almost glad Billy was too mad to notice the  _ live cat  _ in the room.

Billy was blaming him for the two getting in trouble. Figures. Damian was, once again, the scapegoat. Because Billy was an  _ idiot,  _ too  _ stupid  _ to think critically.

_ No, no. _ He really needed to stop this line of thinking. He was so quick to anger — one of his biggest flaws. And he had  _ many  _ flaws.

Positive thinking, Grayson used to tell him. Positive thinking.

Damian sighed and began to compose himself, thinking of an appropriate response.

“Batson, you could have backed out at any time. This is just as much  _ your  _ fault as it is mine.”

There. That — that was nice. It wasn’t  _ mean.  _ It was rational. Dick would be proud.

“You’re such an asshole!!” Billy cried, curling his fists.

“How?” Damian snapped quickly, his patience wearing thin. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You’re the one who asked me for cigarettes! If it wasn’t for you I’d never have been caught! Can’t you control your addiction for  _ five seconds?!” _

Damian was quiet, replaying the words in his head. Ironic — how ironic. Billy was the one with the cigarettes, they were in  _ rehab  _ for fuck’s sake, what did he expect?

Billy took his shoe off and kicked it aside. Once he realized Damian wasn’t going to respond, he growled. “You’re the worst.”

Damian rolled his eyes, not taking it to heart. Yes, he knew he was the worst, but Batson’s reasons were just  _ childish. _ Why not just hate him for something reasonable, like everyone else?

Damian took the chance to pull the blanket off of the kitten, smiling as he noticed she had curled up and fallen asleep. He carefully scooped her in his hands, running a finger over her back carefully. 

The cat stretched a bit as she woke up, letting out a high pitched meow. Damian widened his eyes and covered her with his hand in a panic, shit, that was definitely going to catch Billy’s attention.

“Eh?” And yeah, Damian was right, Billy noticed. “Was that… a cat?”

“No.” Damian said quickly, glaring at him. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Then what’s that in your hands?!” He jumped up and grabbed Damian’s arm, pulling at it roughly. Damian’s elbow shot back in response, and he hadn’t meant to hurt Billy — truly, he didn’t. But a split second passed and Damian’s elbow was jammed in Billy’s diaphragm, causing him to gasp and stumble back.

“Ah—” Damian spun around, still holding the kitten in his hand. “Batson, I’m sorry—”

Billy gasped for air and clutched his stomach, tears forming in the corner of his eyes.

“You-” He coughed and glared at him pathetically. “Fucking— asshole-”

Damian put a hand on his shoulder. “Hey— breathe, Batson, breathe.”

Billy sat on the bed and sucked in greedy breaths, squeezing his eyes shut. It took a few minutes for him to regain control over his breathing, still rubbing the spot Damian had jabbed him.

Billy looked at his hand and frowned. “Where did you get a  _ cat?” _

Damian blushed and put her on the bed, not caring to hide her anymore. There was no point, anyway. “I found her. She was on a branch outside.”

"Are you even allowed to keep it?" Billy asked.

Damian nodded while petting the cat. "Charlie says I'm allowed to." The kitty purred softly as she lied down to get more pets. "Before you ask why I didn't tell you, I've had this cat for like a few minutes."

Billy was still recovering from the hit to the diaphragm as he just watched the little kitten getting pet. He then looked at Damian. "You got a name for it?"

Damian shook his head. "Not yet. I've been trying to come up with a name for her. Haven't been able to because so much has happened recently."

"Well, there isn't anything important that's gonna happen. Seems like the perfect time to come up with a name." Billy remarked as he placed his hand on the bed.

As Damian tried to think of a name for the kitten, who was playing with Billy's hand, his mind was blank. "I got nothing Batson."

"Maybe you can name the kitty after someone you look up too." Billy suggested as he hesitantly pet the small kitten.

Damian started to think of who he should name the kitten after. He looked at the features she had. White fur, a blue eye, and a missing eye. He felt stupid for noticing the obvious similarities the kitten had to Rose Wilson. He remembered fighting alongside her a couple times, and how she was kinda like a big sister to her.

"Got a name for her yet?" Billy asked as he continued to pet the kitten.

"How about Rose?" Damian asked Billy as the kitten snuggled his hand.

"Yeah, Rose sounds like a good name." Billy said as he let the kitten snuggle his hand.

The rest of the day went on without anything significant to comment on. Damian ate lunch on the same table as Billy and none of them said anything substantial. Damian for once, was...not happy but maybe content? Yeah that was the word. He was content that things seemed to be looking up for once.

He remembered the promise he had made Charlie while cleaning up his tray. He groaned at the thought of having more sessions with Hart but the thought of losing the only silver lining he had found in this whole situation was even more painful, so he resigned himself to face his doom and talk about his... _ god this is so stupid _ ...feelings.

Damian finished his chores and looked around him, realizing everyone had left the lunch area without him seemingly noticing it.  _ What was going on? _

“There you are Damian!” the boy looked up and saw Charlie coming to him. “The Horse Therapy session it’s about to start.”

“The...what?” Damian frowned in confusion.

“Didn’t you read the pamphlet I gave your dad?” Charlie asked while taking Damian’s hand and forcing him to follow her “Okay so to summarize, once a month we bring horse here as part of the program of Equine Therapy for addicts that way we learn: to accept responsibility, taking care of oneself and others, patience, humility, a sense of pride blah blah blah.” Charlie turned around the corner “The point if that we’re late!”

Damian nodded as fast as he could. Charlie walked so quickly he could barely process his feelings. His father knew about this part of the program? The part when Damian got to take care of an animal? Why didn’t he tell him? That might have actually helped the medicine go down a little.

He kept following the older girl to the backyard of the building. They immediately we’re received not only by the rest of the patients but also a foul smell of barn that reminded Damian of the Kent Farm.

_ The Kent farm, _ Damian thought,  _ Jon. _

He shook his head and kept walking between the multitude until he was almost next to the horses. Damian was immediately taken aback by their majestic presences. They were only seven of them and about eighteen patients in this particular group so he guessed he would have to get on the line in order to even be able to touch one of the horses. Nevermind, he told himself, he was sure it was worth the wait.

“Hello everybody!” Doctor Hart said smiling at his public.

“Today we all will take part in a little something called Equine Therapy or Horse Therapy as it is colloquially called.”

“Now, I’m going to call you all by alphabetical order of name and you’ll all have the opportunity to bond with one of these majestic creatures! All while following a comprehensive list of instructions of course.”

Slowly but surely the patients went to their respective horses. For what Damian could see a lot of them we’re gentle and soft, as most therapy animals were. He felt almost glad that his father had decided to take him to this place. Animals we’re his support, they weren’t judgemental like humans. They didn’t yell at you and they were as loyal to you as you were to them. Truly marvelous creatures according to Damian.

Sure enough his turn came to Damian to go the horse. Hart pointed to the back and said “Lola is great with new kids.” and he nodded.

Lola was a white horse with dark spots all over her body, for what Damian could tell she was well fed and she had recently given birth. He wasn’t an expert on horses but he knew a thing of two thanks to his afternoons spent in the Kent Farm.

“Alright, Damian.” Hart said “Now the key to a horse it’s not showing nervousness, they won’t bother you unless you bother them.”

“I see.” Damian said and lifted his hand and showed it to the mare so she could sniff it. She did so and showed herself to be easily passive, she huffed and let the boy pet her.

“Good girl.” he said.

He turned around as he noticed people staring, they were clearly amazed by this serious boy who had let his walls down for an animal, Even Billy seemed impressed.

“Do you want to take her for a walk?” Hart asked.

“Am I allowed to?” Damian asked.

The doctor nodded “There’s a meadow not to far away from here, patients usually go and sit with their horses, just make sure to come back by noon.”

Damian grinned happily for the first time in a really long time.

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to us on Twitter! @bratwonders, @Aiden141102, and @SagavanO


End file.
